Bachpan ka pyar

pyar kiya pyar kiya pyar kiya

humne bhi tha kisi se pyar kiya

wo pyar kya tha, tha apna dil de diya

raaton ka karar neendon ko nisar kiya

bas jo kiya ,wo aanken char or yaad hazar kiya

uski yadon me apne ko behar kiya

jabse tha unka deedar kiya,tabse hoshon se tha deewar kiya

par humara kya tha humne to tha pyar se pyar kiya

na kabhi doston me na sathiyon me apne is lagan ka izhar kiya

bas apne dil ki awaz pe dhadkanon ko bauchar kiya

ek din hosla kar ke humne unse ikrar kiya

par unka kya tha unhone to inkar kiya

duniya ko lagta hai usne humse israr kiya

par humne to tha unse pyar kiya

dil rota hai aankhen fat-ti hain sansen jhukti hain

kyun humne bhi tha kisi se pyar kiya

pyar kiya pyar kiya pyar kiya

DREAM-CAR

Ever wondered why the famous words, ‘I Love you’ warm the cockles of your heart? Can love, which has tickled the creative juices of artists, poets and writers to produce masterpieces, be born merely out of instinct?

The day was bright with my strings of heart fondling with the cerebral serum. I was trying hard to change the concentration of air above my head and inside my lungs with the fag kissing upon my lips. Up on the deserted road I was ahead encroaching upon my thoughts and fiddling with the eyes. All of a sudden a knuckle cracking sound thumped the road. An image of deception, an angel in disguise, a caricature of my dreams, filled in the airs with the aura of the freshness and mirth. That was it where I witnessed the figure and soberness that had been entwining with my cerebrations and dreams. That is when I realised I just had a glimpse of the lady of my dreams. Lady, girl or whatever you people call it used to roam n lodge in my pals’ intellections a lot. Well that shouldn’t raise questions on my sexual orientation. I am strictly gay err straight. Ohhh shit I got busy with explaining the prologue and just lost the dream-car (dream caricature) of mine from my sight. Where is she. Was I dreaming yet again. The oldest way to check it. Make contact with a burning splinter (the cigarette in this case). Splinter onto the third block of my index finger and no I a’int dreaming. But I lost her. Courtesy to you all. Any ways I had an aim now. The hunt for my dream-car. Mission dream-car begins. Could do nothing now. The best thing to when you can’t do anything is to do nothing .Mahatma Gandhi said this. I returned to my abode and was trying to chalk out the plan to find my dream-car. And the best way to do it is in dreams, actually was feeling sleepy. Sleep evolved to fulfil some primeval functions and took over multiple functions over time. So was on the bed soon with scuffles going inside whether to activate the sleep inducting cells or the dream-car cells.

Ohh its 11 already .Can’t go to the class now. Well I must, may be the dream-car is from my college itself –a new admission or a nymph yet unX-rayed by me. Deo , boots, tee and a denim okay a pen too.....off to college. Was in the canteen for three long hours to no gain. And then my eyes had a spark, adrenaline rushing into my veins. With havocing amazement and zonked me I could see a structure that enlightened me. The prof whose class I was attending in the canteen was straight at my vision line and that’s not it he too was profoundly staring at me. Again a rush of adrenaline and I was not at all present there, ever. On the slip road off to nowhere I knew. Loitering over and all of a sudden a smooth like caramel, sans hairs like lips, white like coconut endosperm, hand caressed my shoulder and lips smashing them devoid of the puff. I was in front of a lady police asking me to pay the fine for smoking in a public place. Two hundred bucks out from the wallet and twenty six left to be graced with. Now on to the nearby park, the Rose park. My friends go there too often in hope of finding a hot scene, a hot couple, or if luck favours a hot chick (as they call it) all alone waiting for them. A coke and my solitude was a good combo. Serenity of the park inculcating the dream-car thoughts and I was lost in her nimbus stricken odour on the bench. Couples entangled, dudes staring with eyeballs trying to pierce through the cornea, uncles and aunts jogging, gamines dressed hot trying to coerce the other sex, vendors trying to procreate their sales of groundnut n chips and me trying to get out of my head.

Ohh its 6 already. Can’t go to the coaching class now. Well I must, may be the dream-car is from my coaching class-a new admission or one from the swimming classes beside my coaching. Yeah this holds a great probability I feel. I could feel her now. I was not far from her. I could hear her heart thrums. She was not much away. Adrenal glands of mine were on prime once again. I shall haste. I gotta run. My femur, patella, tibia and fibula were synergised, coordinated and there I was running like a deer which could be quarried any moment by an athirst King of beasts. On the brink of crossing the gate of the park and my olfactory cells could perceive the same aroma of my dream-car. Ohhhh my french connecting (fcukin) God ,she is here. Ninety degrees ass rotation and there she was. Same hairs with a blue cap, ditto glint of the legs and hands, rest covered in an orange skirt and a black and white jacket. Yes it was her, smooching a hunk six feet in length and thirty eight inches broad and a skeletor hanging from the right ear. I had never been so cold before standstill like a mannequin and trembling like a mobile on vibration. “Hey moron fuck off” a super-humanly voice broke my vibration mode and I could do nothing but leave. I could hear the crunching of my dreams underneath and with the sordid lone me I was off. Off ...............